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by ToxicBabes



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Bicycles, Cycling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Norway (Country), One Shot, Romance, Skinny Dipping, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:28:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25754359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicBabes/pseuds/ToxicBabes
Summary: Ace and Rook travel to Norway for a laid-back vacation.
Relationships: Håvard "Ace" Haugland/Julien "Rook" Nizan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35





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**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me after touring around Lærdal on Google Maps. Some of the houses there look really beautiful! I hold Ace/Rook in my heart as one of those wholesome ships, hollywood-esque romance and it's fun to write them being fools in love. I hope you enjoy this oneshot, it's mostly fluff and them doing things with some references to aspects of Rook's biography.

Håvard wasn’t kidding when he said he was highly recognisable in the small village of Lærdalsøyri. Wherever they went, there was always someone there to ask, “Is that Håvard Haugland?” And in all those instances, Julien was ready to be the cameraman with a front seat view of his lover flashing a charismatic smile for the shot. 

At first, Håvard had some small concerns with the constant requests for autographs and photos, not that he had a personal problem with it, but this vacation was intended for them to spend some time together, not for Julien to be pressured into becoming his photographer. However, Julien assured him it was fine. It was endearing to see all these people so proud of _their_ Håvard. 

For the first time it seemed that the attention actually humbled him to an extent. He took it with an open smile, but in the moments of quiet contemplation, Julien sensed a hint of reflection in Håvard. They sat on the warm patio of a local restaurant and ate lunch in relative peace without any disruption. The owner had treated them to some drinks free of charge, she knew Håvard since he was a boy and was more than happy to see him home. 

Caught watching, Julien looked elsewhere and took a sip of his drink, unable to hide his growing smile. “What’s wrong? You seem uncomfortable,” he commented, voicing an observation he had noted for the past hours. 

Håvard stretched out in his chair and squinted over at him, blinded by the blazing sun in the early afternoon. “I’m not, this is just different from what I’m used to. These people… they _know_ me, you get me?” 

Part of being his confidant was that Julien got to see the mellow side of Håvard that was rare to come by. He nudged him under the table with his foot. “I’m sure you were their little star back then as well,” he teased with a small chuckle and he wasn’t entirely wrong. 

Following lunch, they set off for Håvard’s house. It was a small property, enough room for two people. The hedges were overgrown from months of neglect and the lawn had bloomed into its own little forest. A white picket fence lined around the land and the idyllic appearance of the place had Julien dreaming of their retirement together here. The house followed similar architecture of the local area of layered wood cladding, slate roofs with a little balcony overhanging the front porch. 

Håvard checked the overflowing mailbox before making his way up the stone path. Nearing the house, he could make out where the old paint was beginning to chip off, specks of warm apricot dotted all over the ground. He considered hiring some people to clean the place up, though wondered if there was any point seeing as his work settled in England for now.

They passed by larger houses earlier, ones with grand gardens and traditional design. Håvard settled for this smaller house that wasn’t excessively spacious, but cosy and contained. It was clear he could afford something more lavish and Julien questioned why he chose this ordinary-looking house. It was nice though, perfect for the two of them. 

Bags packed away in the bedroom, they spent some time cleaning the house of the dust collected over the months. While this was a vacation, they weren’t staying in a five star hotel. This was Håvard’s home and over the next few days, his intentions were to live a life of normalcy, of easy-going routine and less action. No guns, no injury, just him and Julien. 

He had a few days planned to do some sightseeing and to introduce Julien to the family, but outside of that Håvard was more than happy to improvise. Even if they would spend evenings watching movies just like they did in England, he didn’t mind as long as it brought them away from the high stakes of their jobs. 

The stark difference between bickering over what kind of milk to buy to helping one another secure their body armour before a mission, it was hard for Håvard to wrap his head around the idea that the man he loved was also the same person watching his six on the field. He didn’t expect to form such a close bond with anyone he worked with, yet now he was captivated by everything about Julien. The accent when he spoke English, the warmth of his personality that struck Håvard so suddenly when they first met, how their antics together could provoke that specific eye-roll of endearment from their teammates. It made him hope his stay within Rainbow would last, maintaining a long distance relationship would hurt both of them dearly.

Though it wasn’t of Håvard’s character to dwell on hypothetical situations. He preferred to live within the moment and experience life as it came, to capture these memories and cherish them. He didn’t fret over anything else because to him, it was far more important to focus on the man in his arms, his sweet laughter and how he looked up towards Håvard with all the love the world could offer. 

He wished this moment could last forever, but even a few days of privacy with one another was enough.

Their active lifestyles meant only so much lazing around could satisfy them. Eventually came the itch to do something productive, though Håvard was at a loss. For all his life he regarded his small village to be rather boring and old fashioned, a place for tourists to loiter about for a couple minutes looking at the ancient buildings at the village centre before boarding their tour buses to somewhere else more interesting. Yet he loved it here. Lærdalsøyri was a steady constant in his life, somewhere he could always fall back on and find the comforts of old friends and family. He hoped somehow Julien could appreciate this place to the same extent it mattered to him, but at the same time he understood how lacklustre it was.

They burnt a couple hours of the afternoon clearing the vegetation in the garden, clearing the path so they weren’t wading through dense growths of weeds and flora. Like any other day during the summer, the intense sunlight showed no mercy and wasps were out for blood. Julien swore he spent more time sprinting away for dear life, reminding Håvard to help out instead of laughing and recording videos. 

The shed door was stubborn, but Julien managed to pry it open with some effort. A blade of light broke through the darkness and revealed the thick dust floating in the stagnant air. An earthy smell hit him first, amplified by the sheer heat and he braced himself as he stepped inside to look for a rake. To his surprise, he found two dusty bikes covered in cobwebs and hollow spider egg sacs. 

Hauling them out, he glanced around to find Håvard nowhere to be seen then spotted the flash of platinum blond hair by the kitchen window where he was guzzling a glass of water. Their eyes met and he promptly came outside with a beverage for Julien. 

“Think we could go for a ride later?” Julien took the bottle of soda in his gloved hands and made haste opening it. 

“Sure. There’s a hiking trail not far, I’d like to show you it.” Håvard reached out to wipe away the smudge of dirt on Julien’s face, admiring how the younger man looked even when he was sweating and reddened under the scorching sun. “Go inside and get some rest, I’ll clean this up.”

After a quick snack and refilling their water bottles, they set off for the outdoors once more on the bikes Julien found. They were old but functional, a good change from walking everywhere. With the heat of the summer, it felt euphoric to have the wind rushing by and they rode through the small village. 

The scenery gave way to a wide river cutting through the land. Grand valleys cradled the tiny settlement, surrounding it in an expansive green that seemed to stretch on for ages no matter how long they peddled. They passed over a bridge onto a long road and Håvard pointed out all the finer details of where he used to fish with his friends, or the one time they participated in a kayaking competition and won, the small farm that had all kinds of horses. Bringing up old memories filled him with a wistful nostalgia and Julien admired the tranquility in his expression, the purest kinds of joy. 

Since the evening was quickly approaching, they decided to find a restaurant for dinner. From experience, Julien knew it was a terrible decision to cycle on an empty stomach. There wasn’t a vast range of places to choose from, but he wasn’t particularly picky and if anything, a hearty meal was better than carefully constructed culinary art. He didn’t need a romantic venue with candles and for all he cared, they could go to McDonald’s for a date and he would still appreciate the time they spent together. They had done it before after a long day at work and sat in the parking lot until midnight, listening to their favourite songs and going off on those tangents.

Despite the potential for side stitches, they left the restaurant promptly after finishing their food. They walked their bicycles along the empty roads and the rivers carried a calming breeze. As the sun began to set, the sky ripened into a warm orange and Julien took in the view, questioning if this was all real or just a dream. He had his fair share of travels and it seemed Norway was another one of those breathtaking places.

The leather of the bike seat was old and tough, though Julien pressed onto his heels once in a while to relieve the pressure against his glutes. He glanced over his shoulder when he noticed Håvard lagging behind, already tired from several minutes of cycling.

“I never told you about the time I cycled across France, did I?” Julien realised as he slowed down. 

Håvard raised a brow and adjusted his grip on the handles. “No wonder why you’re hardly breaking a sweat,” he commented with a breathy chuckle. Summoning the energy, he pedalled a little harder and returned the pace of their journey. “All the way across France?”

It surprised Julien that it had never cropped up in their conversations. Nevertheless, he was more than happy to tell him about his trek from St Malo to Nice. It was with a group of other cyclists and during the nights, they stayed at a number of hotels, some pleasant and the occasional place that was probably haunted. He recalled another cyclist on that trip, a man his age who was studying marine biology. A temporary friendship had formed during that trip, the heated evenings of sore muscles and breathless kisses. For a moment, Julien was reminiscent of that, but he remembered that Håvard offered affections on a deeper level. The memories were pleasant and entertaining enough, they both had their stories of fantastic hookups. 

As he spoke, there was something off about his bike. The chain needed oiling, no surprise given that it had been left in that dusty shed for probably years. The added friction wasn’t too bad, an extra challenge for Julien to power through- 

He threw his hands out to break his fall, but it was too late. The impact of his body against the ground knocked the air from his lungs and he continued to roll to lose momentum, tumbling against the grass banks. The bike scraped along the road, hurling an impressive distance and the asphalt dinged up the metal frame. Julien managed to sit up after recovering from the fall, not hearing Håvard call after him.

“Are you okay?” Håvard asked, his voice taking on a concern which Julien rarely heard. Worry was not part of Håvard’s persona, but definitely an aspect of his love. He kneeled down by Julien’s side and took his wrists to examine the scrapes on his palms. “Stay here.”

Specks of gravel jutted out from the shallow wounds and Julien grimaced from the pain and the blood on his hands. He watched Håvard retrieve the bottle of water from the basket on his bike, his movements hasty to not waste a second.

“I’ve been worse,” Julien said and winced as he tried to pick out a larger piece of debris. The sting was horrible, enough to almost make his eyes water. Håvard cradled one of his palms and began to wash it, his touch light to avoid agitating the gashes. Through the pain and adrenaline of the situation, there was something endearing about the concentration of his face and Julien appreciated the care. “Good thing I have you, hm? Håvard Haugland to save the day.”

The comment broke through Håvard’s thoughts and his lips pulled into a charming smile. “It’s going to be alright, mon- ma? No… mon amour?” He attempted, the heroic line botched by his poor French learned from imitating Julien. 

“Mon amour,” Julien affirmed with a hum under his breath, lips twisted into an uneasy grin and his gaze softened as Håvard checked him over, being meticulous to ensure he wasn’t injured elsewhere. Aside from the scrapes, he was okay, though Håvard was insistent on asking him a few simple questions to make sure the tumble didn’t give him a concussion. 

With that cleared up, Håvard had one final course of treatment in mind. He leaned in to capture Julien’s lips in a gentle kiss, then he pressed his lips against the back of his hands where the skin had not been broken by the fall. If it wasn’t going to heal the scrapes, it was going to heal a hurt ego from falling over. “Better?” Håvard asked in a gentle tone and he helped him to his feet.

It hurt to close his fists, so Julien took some care around his fresh injuries. The wind was enough to make it burn, he didn’t want to accidentally brush it against his clothes. He trudged towards the river where he had heard the splash of the bike falling in and the gnarled metal frame was sinking deeper into the water. He didn’t know what he had expected from these old bikes, though at least the other one still worked. 

“What are we gonna about this?” He questioned, looking towards Håvard.

“Continue on? The river is deep, I don’t think we’ll be fishing it out anytime soon,” Håvard suggested and they didn’t see why not. The faint glint of the bike frame soon disappeared and Julien nodded, this was a lost cause. Standing on the pegs of the back wheel, Julien stabilised himself by gripping onto Håvard’s broad shoulders. For the first few metres, they were wobbly until he got used to the change. “We’re not too far,” he explained as they passed by a board of tourist information about the trail.

The huffing and puffing had Julien wishing he could offer to take over, though he couldn’t. Instead, he leaned forwards to press his lips against Håvard’s sweaty temple, a small gesture of encouragement that seemed to restore some energy in him and he put some effort into maintaining the momentum that brought them closer to their destination. 

Once they arrived, they leaned the bike against an old fence and trusted no passerby would nick their ride. Håvard guzzled down some water and stretched his cramped legs, feeling absolutely amateur in comparison to his lover who laughed at his exhaustion. 

He guided them through the path and found that it had changed considerably over the years. The route he used to take was made narrow by overgrown vegetation, garbage clinging to the brambles and empty bottles flattened against the dirt. It seemed that today’s youth appreciated the privacy of this place just as much as Håvard did when he was a rebellious teenager sneaking alcohol with his friends. Though it wasn’t the secrecy of the trees that attracted him to here. They strayed from the footpath and Håvard took Julien by the arm, holding him close as they descended a steep hill. 

They stepped carefully, dirty running shoes trampling the foliage and just barely finding traction. The ground beneath them evened out the lower they went and Julien raised his gaze to meet the shimmering surface of a lake spanning wide before him. The hues of the sky reflected off the water and a light breeze disturbed its stillness, causing the slightest of ripples to distort the image. 

Håvard set down his backpack. “Perks of dating me is that I’ll show you the best spots,” he spoke up and flashed that charming smile of his. “I used to come here all the time. The water can be a bit cold, but you get used to it.” 

Seeing as he was taking his shirt off, Julien followed suit and pulled off his tank top. He left it by the backpack and stepped out of his shoes, then came the socks and he paused as he watched Håvard in his tight briefs. 

“You first.” Julien nodded and his eyes flicked downwards, unable to hide his expression as he grew more flustered. 

Håvard has no issue with that. He shrugged in response and took them off in one swift motion, confident in his naked form. _To be one with nature,_ he couldn’t knock that notion and he put his hands on his hips, everything on full display for Julien. “Need some help?” He offered, remembering the incident from earlier.

Made bashful by the thought that someone could see them, Julien quickly took off his underwear and tossed them into the pile of their clothes. He took Håvard’s hand once again and they made tentative steps towards the lake. The coldness of the lake nipped at his skin, but he ignored the instinct to flinch away and continued to follow Håvard in deeper. A sudden drop in depth had the water swallowing Julien up to his chest. He gasped at the sensation, his clutch on Håvard’s arm tightening.

“A bit cold?” He quoted, the scepticism on his face immediately erased by the concentration to tread the waters as they waded out several more feet. “It’s fucking _freezing!”_

They sucked in steady breaths, limbs kicking to remain afloat. “It really isn’t that bad,” Håvard insisted with a genuine grin, perhaps too accustomed to the cold. It was within his blood. He braced himself by drawing a large breath then he dipped under the surface, allowing the chill to engulf him whole. It allowed his body to acclimate to the temperature and through his blurry vision, he reached a hand out to touch Julien’s thigh. 

Realising what was about to happen, Julien filled his lungs with air. His heart thrummed hard in his chest and adrenaline fizzled in his fingertips as Håvard dragged him under. The slight panic eased after a moment and he focused on the warmth of Håvard’s palms cradling his face, bringing them closer and closer until their lips met in a firm kiss. Their shins clashed, hairy calves brushing as they kicked to avoid sinking any lower. Water rushed into their mouths as they attempted to deepen their kiss and Julien held on for as long as he could, but his body cried for oxygen and muscles began to burn. 

He pulled away and rose for air. The light asphyxiation left him dazed and slightly giddy, enough to give a breathless chuckle as he looked towards Håvard. Julien reached over to brush back his wet hair and he cast an endearing stare towards Håvard, admiring the way he looked with the sun resting on his wet skin. 

They swam over to the bank where they could rest against the rocks. The warm granite dug into Julien’s back and he leaned against it to reduce the strain on the rest of his body. As the minutes passed, the coldness didn’t seem so bad. It was a refreshing change after all the cycling left him sticky with sweat. A passing breeze brought shivers and Håvard slung an arm around him, hoping to share some warmth. They were soaking and naked, there wasn’t a lot of heat to go around. 

Julien estimated they were in the water for roughly seventeen minutes before he made the suggestion they dry off in the sun, to which Håvard agreed because the shrinkage down there wasn’t pleasant and skinny dipping was more of a romantic memory than it was a fun thing to do in practice. Shivering slightly, they laid out on the grass and mild warmth of the sunlight wick away the water. 

A finger traced small circles against Julien’s arm and ran over the contours of his bicep before cautiously abseiling down to the angry scrapes on his forearms. Håvard touched the edge of the wound, inspecting for any debris and he eased off when Julien flinched at the contact.

“Does it still hurt?” Håvard asked, his brows furrowing upwards. “When we get home, I’ll get you patched up.” 

The dusk had settled in by the time they were getting dressed, pulling into their dry clothes over slightly damp skin. They followed the path from where they came and retrieved the bike where it poked out from the overgrown grass. This time, Julien insisted he could pedal them home at half the time it would take Håvard to toil and sweat the journey. And he did, taking them down the roads at speeds which made Håvard warn him to slow down, though for Julien this was typical. The fall from earlier didn’t phase him, he had eaten gravel harder in the past. 

The distant windows of houses were glowing embers like fireflies and Julien was sure he would miss this place once they left it. There was something peculiar and pleasant about the architecture, something he appreciated with every country he visited because everyone had a different vision of _home_ and for Håvard, it was his house of sturdy, amber wood and white accented windows. 

All the moving about had them sufficiently worn out for the night. They caught a quick shower before slipping in bed, too tired to consider anything else and nothing relieved Julien more than feeling the crisp bed sheets against his skin and the firm embrace of Håvard’s arms keeping him close. He fell asleep within moments of settling in bed. 

The next morning brought about sore muscles and aching hip flexors, though nothing worse than a rigorous workout. They slept through their alarms and Julien continued to sleep, too worn to even think of sitting up. Perhaps today they would stay at home, order pizza and watch a dozen movies back-to-back. He blinked awake in the afternoon, noticing the sound of Håvard’s light footsteps. 

The bathroom door was left ajar and Håvard stood in front of the mirror, the bottom half of his face covered in foamy shaving cream. He held a concentrated expression as he shaved, taking care not to nick his skin. As he held the position, Julien admired his toned, lithe physique and the way his blond hair reflected the afternoon sun, sleek and near platinum. Despite appearing to be leaner, Håvard proved to be pretty strong. 

He rinsed his face with cold water and patted on some aftershave, hissing under his breath where it stung his sensitive skin. Oftentimes Julien liked to poke fun at how meticulous he was about grooming his facial hair when it was so light. Their eyes met when Håvard returned to the bedroom. He slipped on a pair of shorts before he approached the bed to press his lips against Julien’s forehead.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted and peeled the duvet off his body. Julien accepted the affections with a weary smile and stretched out. “Here, let me see.”

A quick inspection. Håvard lifted the dressings to see the road rash and having assessed the situation, he went to retrieve the first aid kid. “Looks clean which is good,” he continued and began to take off the old dressings. “It shouldn’t scar if you keep it well moisturised.”

Julien allowed him to clean the abrasions, toughening up against the unpleasant sensations. He held back a small chuckle when he saw the way Håvard held such concentration. “You’re acting like I’ve been shot. It’s just a scrape,” he pointed out, but he knew it was within Håvard’s soul to be dramatic. Thankfully, there was no mock-concern lecture about how minor wounds could get infected easily. Instead, Håvard pressed a healing kiss onto the inside of Julien’s wrist. 

“You don’t remember the time you did get shot? You were shaking all over,” Håvard mentioned, giving him a gentle look because he remembered it rather vividly. “I don’t blame you, it’s incredibly disorientating.”

Julien did, though not the injury. Rather, he recalled the sight of Håvard consoling him as he administered first aid, hands moving so deftly and skilfully. A reassuring smile, the calm voice of his reminding Julien to keep breathing, that he was doing a fantastic job staying awake, helicopter evacuation was on its way. “I do,” he answered. “I remember feeling safe because you were there.”

A brief pause settled between them where Håvard held the compliment close to his heart. He squeezed Julien’s hand once more and kissed him again, this time on the lips.

**Author's Note:**

> My Twitter is [@CompoundZ8](https://twitter.com/CompoundZ8)  
> My Tumblr is [erc-7](https://erc-7.tumblr.com)


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